


Sway

by poland



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Challenges, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poland/pseuds/poland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lithuania thinks back to a specific memory in the late 1920's. For my 100 LTP Drabble Challenge; Drabble 002 of 100.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sway

In the late nineties, America had cleaned out one of his back rooms and found a bunch of phonograph records he didn't want. Bascom Lamar Lunsford, Eck Robertson, Crying Sam Collins. His first instinct was to call a friend and ask if they wanted them instead.

Lithuania answered yes. Even if he had to get something to play them on.

He'd gotten a phonograph at an antique store in the early 2000's, spending a little more than he should have but it made him feel sentimental. Even then when he told Poland about his purchase, he could feel his friend's eyes roll. "Liet, didn't you hear the newest thing is called an Apple or something? It even _sounds_ cuter than a big dirty phonograph."

When he'd moved into Poland's house, he'd laughed at Lithuania struggling with his heavy phonograph upstairs, guffawing at how old-fashioned he was, following him along to poke fun and call him an old man instead of helping him with the heavy music player.

Over the years, during rearranging, it'd moved several times. Downstairs, back up, to another room, back downstairs. Lithuania rescued it from the garbage once. Poland didn't have the energy or the strength to carry it up and down stairs or to the room, but he had enough strength to carry it down the country road to put it next to the trash collection. The excuse was it didn't look good and was gathering too much dust in the living room.

It had actually looked like it had been dragged due to the scuffing and rocks he found embedded to the underside.

But there it was, still playing and surviving. Poland had gone to his boss' for the afternoon so Lithuania felt safe enough to bring it out from its place in the cabinet downstairs without harassment. He could probably download the songs on his records to his phone and play them that way but something about the scratchiness of the way the phonograph played the looping record sounded better to him.

Hands red from washing in such hot water, he scrubbed plates and cups rhythmically, whistling to a slow but jazzy song. He'd been gone for three days himself, and it was always amazing to him how Poland could get every dish dirty even though he was under the impression Poland mostly ordered takeout or ate things out of their cartons when he wasn't there.

He remembered the first time he'd actually heard this song, a little bit before he'd been taken back to Europe. It was playing in America's living room phonograph, and he remembered it quite well. There was America, sitting on his arm chair, business suit half undone. His foot was tapping along to it. Lithuania hadn't cleaned that room yet, and he saw America lounging so peacefully. He felt a little obtrusive, quickly trying to close the door.

"Hey, Lithuania! What're you doing, shouldn't you have stopped working by now?"

He opened the door a bit more. "I'm almost done, but please don't let me disturb you." He nodded politely. It really was no trouble to him. He was happy to work there.

America made a strange noise with his mouth, brushing him off with it, sitting up and motioning with his arm to come in. "Relax. How long have you been sneaking around, cleaning like some kind of mouse maid. You should know by now my home." He motioned to himself as Lithuania came into the room, sheepishly closing the door. "Is your home."

"Thank you." Lithuania nodded, standing awkwardly.

"Sit, sit. This isn't some fancy dress party," He opened a box next to him, containing cigarettes. "Want one?"

Lithuania shook his head. He had a hateful relationship with smoking, mostly because the smell was awful and he was tired of cleaning up their gross and spit covered remnants scattered everywhere.

America lit one with a match, bringing it to his lips. He inhaled and coughed immediately. Lithuania tried to hold in a laugh but he could barely contain a snort. America, of course, noticed.

"These are really in right now." He sputtered. "And I've gotta be a cool, big six kind of guy. Sit down or something, or do you even know how?" Said jokingly, he pointed at a specific chair. "I'll have to make you sit at the rate this is going."

Lithuania sat down without much protest this time. He was, indeed, tired and wanted to retire to his room. Sitting down was nice, though. Even though the chair smelled like spilled alcohol and cigars, it was comforting and nice to sit down after working all day.

"You've seen one of these, right? A phonograph? It's not too new but still an orchid." He pointed to the machine with his cigarette hand. "I like this guy. This is a new record and everything! Music's great and everything right now. Dancing, parties." He crossed his legs and took a happy puff, even if he coughed dryly afterwards. "I could get used to this."

"It's nice." Lithuania commented, being genuine. It sure beat Eastern Europe. At the time, anyway.

"You want a drink?"America reached under his sitting chair, tongue between his lips as he maneuvered around to reach the alcohol he'd hidden under his chair. Prohibition had put a damper on a lot of spirits, literally, but America always seemed to have some on hand anyway, as was apparent by parties that were thrown and the flask in his hand.

"That's illegal..." Lithuania commented, but then didn't reject the small glass handed to him a minute later.

"I don't think it'll last much longer. A little never hurts, right?" He winked, downing half of his brandy. "It's not bad for counterfeit, either. Anyway, to prosperity and good times!"

"Here, here..." Lithuania gently lifted his glass and drank, quietly cheersing. In reality, he did wish it would last. For a long time.

There was some quiet for a while before America commented again. "Do you know how to dance."

"A little." Lithuania nodded. "Mostly old traditional dances. Well, they're all actually traditional dances."

"No, no, not like that. Modern dances. C'mere, get up."

Before he could even get up, America was in the center of the room, hand extended. He got up, gingerly approaching, and took it nervously.

"Alright this one is called...wait, you can't slow waltz, can you?" Lithuania shook his head, eyes focused on America. He knew a variation but he was sure it wasn't the new-fangled type of dance. "Alright, then, this'll be good. I hope you don't have two left feet."

America walked him through a few steps, hands placed strangely, but Lithuania was too focused on his feet and where to put them.

"You're doing ducky for someone so old." America laughed. Lithuania looked down, smiling in modesty and at America's slang that he found so strange, that didn't look like it should be coming from someone with such an appearance and demeanor.

"I have some talent for things." Lithuania placed his foot properly for the next step without being asked.

"Hey hey, the student has surpassed the master...oh damn." America reiterated his words by stepping on Lithuania's foot.

"Don't get too close." Lithuania warned. "My apron's dirty."

"Aw, who cares about a little dirt." He positioned himself again. Lithuania suddenly became very aware of how close they actually were.

Which wasn't anything new. They'd slept in the same bed more than a few times, they'd had to have the normal skinship that came with living in the same house. Dancing was so different though. Lithuania had danced so many times before for weddings or parties or on Polish whims, and only a handful of those times had felt as personal as this one.

"America, I'm not really..."

"The thing you've _got_ to remember , though. is that it's all about the sway." The hand on his hip pushed him to the side a little as America cut him off. "You've seen girls do this, right? I mean, when you do it with someone else, you're going to be leading. Guess that'd be more important for you to learn but I'm a really good leader if I do say so myself."

He winked, obviously speaking more about himself than just his dance prowess. Even though he was so, so young he was doing so well with so little experience. In fact, they were practically the same physically apparent age. "So let's try this again with a little less foot fumbling this time."

But Lithuania was suddenly awoken from his reverie by a loud snort. Dropping the dish he'd been circling for thirty minutes with a now cold wash cloth he spun around, splashing water across the floor.

"What are you even doing in here? The mambo?"

Poland leaned against the door frame, staring bemusedly. He was wearing one of his few suits, though his jacket and tie were gone. Probably strewn on the floor. Lithuania could feel his face turn red.

"I was really just washing dishes! I just...got a little lost in it that's all." He turned back to the sink, trying to hide his face. Something about this was entirely too embarrassing.

"Really?" He heard Poland call from the living room, having left the kitchen. His tone was teasing. "Because you looked really hilarious with your butt shaking and everything."

Lithuania gripped a wet glass so tight it slid from his hands and clattered to the floor. Thank goodness it was plastic.


End file.
